


Thanks for the Memories

by skinscript (Infie)



Category: Queer as Folk (US), Stargate Atlantis
Genre: BDSM, Crossover, M/M, Power Kink, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-03
Updated: 2014-01-03
Packaged: 2018-01-07 05:52:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1116286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Infie/pseuds/skinscript
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For John Sheppard, a trip to Pittsburgh for as protection for McKay to speak at a conference takes a turn for the surreal when he follows McKay to a local gay bar.  For Brian Kinney, a dull night in depressing few months at Babylon gets a whole lot more interesting when his old "friend" Doctor Rodney McKay drops in for a visit.  For McKay, it's just time to finally come out and play.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thanks for the Memories

John collapsed onto the double bed in Rodney's hotel room and tried to remember the last time he had been so bored. Not that he *minded* being back on Earth with Rodney, per se. More that he could live without the constant stream of irritated (and irritating) physicists, mathematicians, computer scientists, and other ists and ians who insisted on arguing theory with Rodney. After a long day of listening to Rodney talk and what felt like hundreds of other people argue, all he wanted was to rent some in room pay per view and go to bed. Unfortunately, he had to make sure Rodney was done for the night first. Given Rodney's usual sleep habits; he might never get to see his porn.

What he'd been thinking when he offered to watch Rodney's back at this conference, he would never know.

"I told you not to come." Rodney strolled back into the main room fresh from the shower, pointedly ignoring John's inelegant sprawl on top of the clothes John had come to think of as his 'academic costume'. He had one of the hotel's white bath sheets wrapped loosely around his waist, and was rubbing briskly at his torso with another. Water still dripped down both legs, rivulets turning the light hair dark. Rodney's eyelashes were spiky and wet, eyes gleaming blue through them. John looked away.

"I should have listened." John muttered. "Face it, Rodney. After the last couple of trips here there wasn't much question that you were going to be assigned protection for this trip. You should be glad it was me. What would you have to do otherwise? Except maybe actually _die_ of boredom."

Rodney tossed the towel into the corner, rummaged in his duffle bag and pulled out a black silk t-shirt that John had never seen before. He blinked. Rodney and silk? "Seriously, Rodney? Silk?"

He ignored John again, pulling the shirt briskly over his head. The fabric clung tightly across his shoulders and chest, falling loosely around his lower ribs and stomach. He looked ... well. Hot. Stylish, even. "Actually, I have things to do here." Rodney grabbed some black jeans from his duffle and disappeared back into the bathroom. "Tonight, in fact."

John sat up.

"Tonight?"

"Yeah." Rodney emerged from the bathroom, paused briefly in front of the mirror on the pint-sized closet to run his hands over his hair. "I used to teach here. I have... friends. A friend. To see."

"Friends." John felt like a parrot.

"Yes." Impatient, now. "I don't get to Pittsburgh often, but when I'm here I visit. I promised to, and I do." He fastened his belt with quick fingers, leaned over to pull on his boots. John ignored the way he filled out the jeans.

"Then I'm coming with you."

Rodney turned to face him. The t-shirt showed off the muscle of his arms, too. "I don't need a keeper for this. In fact," he took a deep breath and visibly steeled himself. "For this, a keeper is exactly the _last_ thing I need." His chin lifted in that stubborn gesture that John knew so well, eyes meeting his evenly. "I told you not to come, John."

John pursed his lips, nodded slowly. Rodney flashed him a quicksilver grin, stuffed his wallet in the back pocket of his jeans, and waved as he opened the door. "I'll meet you for breakfast." He left.

After what felt like a suitable interval, John followed.

* * *

The bass beat of Babylon's thumpa thumpa vibrated heavily through the soles of his boots and the metal of the walkway shivered under his arms as though giving him a gentle massage. Magic Fingers, for one whole hell of a lot more than twenty five cents. Lights flashed as brightly as the music beat loudly, and Brian closed his eyes against the momentary vertigo the strobe always gave him when he was up here.

The crowd throbbed and pulsed below him, the dancers moving with abandon. Friday night meant a full, full house. Good money to be made, of course, good times to be had. He shook himself a little, watched the flow of men below with a practiced eye. He saw the general push and pull of the music on the dancers, the ripples here and there as the men with darker drives moved through the crowd like smoothly hunting sharks. There were a couple of guys trolling tonight, but no one out there a threat to him. No one worth noticing.

After all, he was _Brian fucking Kinney_ , and this was his home ground.

He laughed at himself and headed down to the bar.

Two fingers lifted got him a glass with a nice triple shot of whiskey. He knocked back half in a single gulp, blinking against the cold rush. Another gesture got him a water to go with it, and he nodded his thanks. The bartender grinned back, always happy to serve the boss, wishing that service meant more than Brian was willing for it to.

One thing he'd learned from Justin's brief dance career: Never fuck the staff. Not even when they wanted to.

Not even when they begged.

Brian sighed, leaned heavily against the bar rail, lowered his head for just a minute. God, he was so fucking tired. How many people did he have relying on him now? The staff of Kinnetic, the staff of Babylon. His friends, who still half the time cursed him with one breath and asked him for help or advice with the other. His son. Brian rubbed a hand over his chest, pressing hard against the ache that had taken up residence there and just never. fucking. quit.

Maybe it was time for a vacation. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt completely relaxed, completely still. Years, at least. Maybe not since...

A warm body slid into place against his, and he grinned, leaning into it. "Mikey." He lifted his head, nodded at Ben, dropped a kiss on Michael's head. "Where are the others?'

Michael nodded towards the floor full of gyrating dancers. "Already out there."

"Excellent." Brian shook his hair out of his eyes, grabbed Michael's hand and pulled. Since Ben had his arm over Michael's shoulder, he moved too. "Then we should join them!"

Surrounded by bodies and the smell of flesh and sweat, Brian closed his eyes and let the music take him away.

* * *

_  
_

_Brian knew the instant he walked into the room._

_He was in the wrong place._

_The lecture hall was full of pale faces and skinny bodies, mostly dressed in button down shirts and loose jeans, even the women. There were T-shirts and unflattering baggy clothes, and an overwhelming sensation of caffeine-fuelled frenzy. All he could smell was hot skin and sweat. He was used to standing out in a crowd, but rarely was it because his carefully tailored pants and loose silk dress shirt just didn't fit in. As a marketing major, he doubted he'd even ever seen this many sun-deprived people in one room._

_So totally, completely, utterly in the wrong place._

_Then, *he* walked to the front of the class._

_Snug jeans, snarky t-shirt loose over a tight belly and tight over broad shoulders. Sneaker-clad feet and a loose, comfortably heavy stride. Too-long hair curling slightly at the ends, fair skin over strong features. The kind of face that was pretty, handsome even now, but that would age into an entirely different kind of beauty. The man's lips were full, wide even seen from the side. He looked a few years older, mid-twenties maybe, possibly pushing thirty. Even from forty feet away, Brian felt the tension singing through the other man's frame, the sheer energy he exuded. The man spun on his heel and faced the class. Immediately the students hustled to their seats, almost pushing each other over in their haste. Brian grinned as the rushing bodies obscured his view. This guy must be something else._

_When the aisle cleared, the man was looking directly at him. Slate blue eyes bored coldly into his, crossed arms and braced feet broadcasting irritated, arrogant disdain as clearly as a shout. The force of the man's glare slammed into him with an almost physical impact, and Brian found himself sinking into the nearest seat, fingers clenching into fists and shoulders straightening reflexively. When the man's eyes left him to sweep across the rest of the class with haughty contempt, he actually felt his muscles sag with relief. "Jesus," he muttered._

_"No, actually," the man said, voice ringing firmly through the room. "Though you aren't the first to say so." His mouth twisted into a bitter smile. "My name is Doctor Rodney McKay. Welcome to Advanced Astrophysics." He leaned forward, rubbing his hands together. The class leaned back, matching his angle almost exactly. "Trust me, by the end of this course, you'll be calling me names from the *other* end of the spectrum."_

_Oh, yeah. He was in completely, utterly, totally, the right place._

* * *

At least Rodney had decided to walk.

John wasn't sure if he should be grateful or looking for the pod in the hotel. Rodney wasn't exactly known for his enjoyment of long strolls, but it certainly made following him a hell of a lot easier. John had been having images of having to yell "Follow that cab!" the whole trip down in the elevator. Instead, he was following Rodney on foot. The other man certainly looked as though he knew exactly where he was going, even at almost eleven o'clock at night. He moved confidently, head up, shoulders back. John had half-expected to find him set upon by muggers within a couple of blocks, but instead Rodney was giving off a definite 'don't fuck with me' vibe.

Maybe he should be looking for the pod after all.

Rodney swung left, then left again, crossing against the light at a half-jog. He turned right down an alley. John sidled up to the corner of the building, stuck his head around the corner to check just in case Rodney was on to him. He wasn't.

The alley was half-lit by a set of bright lights set into the side of the building, each loudly proclaiming the location as "Babylon". There was a line-up of men waiting to get in stretching more than half the block, and as John watched the muscle-bound man working the door opened it to let another lucky group in. Music throbbed out the open door, muted again as it swung shut. John blinked.

Rodney had come to a club. With music. And... and... _dancing_. Jesus wept. Rodney _was_ a pod person! Had to be. Either that, or maybe he was tired enough to be hallucinating. Though, he hadn't realised he had that good an imagination. John shook his head hard to clear it, looked again.

Rodney walked straight up to the bouncer, bypassing the line-up and ignoring the sidelong looks of resentment. He paused at the door, showed the bouncer a card from his wallet. The bouncer immediately opened the door and gestured him inside with a deferential half-bow. John blinked again, followed his path in a trot. The bouncer placed one huge hand on his chest when he would have reached for the door.

"Members only."

John pulled out his wallet, flipped to the Military ID. "I'm on protection detail for the man you just let in," he said firmly. "I don't mind paying the cover, but I _am_ going inside. Now."

The bouncer gave him a long, flat, unimpressed stare, raking him from head to foot. " _You're_ with Doctor McKay?" He asked sceptically. Another shock. This guy knew Rodney by name?

"I'm *protecting* Rodney McKay," John clarified coldly. "And if something happens to him while you're holding me out here..."

The bouncer considered, then shrugged and smirked. "Go ahead." He laughed. "Not like you'd get away with anything in there anyway."

John glared and walked through the door.

* * *

The music just wasn't working its magic tonight.

Brian growled under his breath, forced a smile for Michael's benefit. Christ, if he thought Brian was having any kind of a mope he'd be dragging him home with them to make sure he had 'company', that he wasn't busily pining over Justin, safely away in New York making his fortune.

It had been three years, for fuck sake. He wasn't pining. He was having a great time. Here. In _his_ club, in _his_ city, damn it.

He rubbed his chest again and cursed. He hated this shit. This... _this_ was why he didn't let himself get involved in the first place. He needed... He needed a good, hard fuck, that's what he needed. He needed... Christ. He needed something he didn't let himself get, at least, not any more.

The song changed.

The lights went down as the bass started to rumble through the floor. Brian grinned, letting his eyes flutter closed and the dark soothe his frustration. The beat started to pick up, driving up through his boots. Brian relaxed his body, tilted his head back, and started to move. The strobes flared to life as the synthesizer kicked in, and this time the vertigo made him feel almost like he was flying.

He felt the ripple through the crowd at his back, ignored it in favour of the stillness in his head.

"Oh, Fuck."

In the instant it took the sound of Michael's venomous curse to penetrate, there was a body sliding into place alongside his, a hand slipping into place against the back of his neck. The pressure had him turning involuntarily, fitting his body against the other's automatically. The touch was achingly familiar, one he hadn't felt in years. One that had his eyes springing open, his head turning to see even before his brain registered the sensation. A second hand cupped his jaw, strong fingers raking into the hair just under his ear, tilting his head just so. He caught a glimpse of amused blue eyes and a crooked grin before his mouth was caught in a kiss. A deep, dirty, wet kiss that had his eyes fluttering shut and his knees sagging.

Only one person could do this to him this fast.

Only one person could do _this_ to him at all.

Holy shit. Fucking McKay.

* * *

_  
_

_The class had been interesting. Damned interesting and he didn't even bother with science. Advertising, that was where the money was. The money and the power. The reasons for Brian's entire existence, right there._

_He avoided the class for a week, and then found himself back in his seat. When the professor's eyes raked over him he winced, but McKay didn't say anything, just went on with the lecture._

_He was heading out when a strong hand clamped over his wrist. The fingers tightened, pressing flesh against bone in a grip that didn't hurt but would definitely bruise. He tried to jerk away, failed, turned on his captor angrily. The words stuck in his throat as he found himself staring into frozen blue eyes from only inches away. "You," McKay said evenly. "Come with me."_

* * *

John couldn't believe his eyes.

The thud of the music had hit John like a fist in the chest as he walked through the door, just as the lights went down and the beat revved up. There had been just enough light for him to make his way into the main room and identify a staircase that he could use to look over the crowd. He had been three steps up when the lights began to strobe in time with the frantic beat and he got a good look at the dancers on the stages

The male dancers.

The mostly naked, ripped, _hot_ male dancers.

Holy shit. Rodney had led him to a gay bar.

And based on the signage, it was Military Service night at Babylon. Some of the crowd, dressed - or rather, half-dressed - in fatigues, were already displaying some of the more creative interpretations of the phrase along with an impressive array of skin. John shook his head and was glad he left his BDUs at the hotel.

The dance floor had been absolutely packed with gyrating men. John had identified the bathrooms and the bar half-hidden under the stairs easily enough by the flow of men, but hadn’t found Rodney. He was about to head reluctantly for the backroom (god, please, no) when a small area of stillness on the dance floor caught his eye.

Rodney was approaching a small knot of dancers. The tallest of the group was lost in the music, face turned to the ceiling. John saw Rodney smile slightly then slide against the tall man's shoulder and side to turn him. The tall man's head had snapped down, eyes wide in shock, and Rodney had cupped his jaw in both hands, dragging him into a deep kiss.

John blinked hard, fought the desire to rub his eyes like a little kid trying to wake up.

The tall man's eyes closed and he swayed against Rodney, curling into him sensuously, almost sagging from Rodney's hands. Clenching his hands over the metal railing until his knuckles were white, John knew exactly how the guy felt. His own knees felt weak, his stomach tight with shock and other things he didn't even have names for.

Well. Now he knew why Rodney wouldn't have been _bored_. Jesus.

* * *

McKay held him firmly, deepening the kiss until it took up his whole world before slowly releasing him. "Hi, Brian," he said.

Brian dropped his head to McKay's shoulder, pressing against the firm silk-covered muscle. Something light expanded in his chest, pushing that damnable ache out of the way for the first time in a very, very long time. McKay was in town. Oh, yeah. Oh, yeah, this could be exactly what he needed. He lifted his head, knowing that the expression on his face would still be hot and needy and not caring at all.

"Jesus, McKay." He managed a smile, though he knew it wavered a little around the edges. "You're in Pittsburgh. You're _here_."

"I see you're as perceptive as always." McKay pulled back from him a little, ignoring the way Brian swayed as if to follow. The warmth in Brian's chest grew stronger.

"And I see you're looking a bit worse for wear," Michael interjected bitterly in his best bitch-voice.

McKay crossed his arms and lifted his chin, his whole body locking down into arrogant mode. "And yet, still utterly uninterested in you, Marvin."

Michael spluttered. Brian sighed, rubbed a hand over his eyes and snuck a sideways glance at Ben, who looked pretty taken aback at Michael's clear dislike of this stranger. Brian gave him an imploring look, and Ben smiled back in resignation. "Come on, Michael," he said, tugging on his husband's arm. "Ted's waving at us." Michael glared daggers at McKay but went where Ben directed.

Brian took a long assessing look as McKay watched Michael leave with amused irritation. Sure, McKay had put on some weight, particularly through the shoulders and chest, and his hair was a lot shorter than it had been. His face was also heavier, less purely pretty than it had been back at the university. More towards handsome than he had been. Like he'd seen things and done things that had aged him. Of course, the fact that university had been a full twelve years ago could have some effect too, he supposed, though the changes hadn't been nearly so pronounced four years ago; the last time he'd seen McKay.

Then the blue eyes turned back to him, and none of it mattered. He could be another fifty years older, with no hair and no teeth and he would still have Brian's stomach turning somersaults. This was _McKay_.

"So," Brian swept his eyes the length of McKay's body with slow appreciation. "Why are you here?"

"I told you I'd come if I was in town." He looked around, scanning the room restlessly. That alert tension was new, though the vibrating energy wasn't. Brian had the feeling it was an ingrained habit, learned while McKay was... where ever he had been. "I'm in town. So I'm here."

Brian pursed his lips, nodded. McKay met his gaze again, expressions flicking across his face faster than Brian could read. There was more to this than simply looking him up. Brian's eyes narrowed in thought. There was really only one reason McKay would be out finding him at this time of night, and it was a reason that Brian was all in favour of. Especially now, especially when he needed to just forget for a while. McKay could give him that; had come here to take it, but something was holding him back. It was like watching an actor working on a performance; the person underneath would peek through. The person Brian needed was there, just under the surface. Like a shark waiting for the perfect moment to show his teeth. Brian just needed to give him the right reason to show himself the rest of the way.

Well. That could be arranged.

Brian stepped close, moulding against McKay's side, nuzzling his nose into the hollow under McKay's ear. "I've missed you," he whispered, letting his breath fan over the sensitive skin, running his hand over McKay's shoulder and down his arm. McKay froze under the touch, his lashes sweeping down to hide his eyes. "It's been a really long time."

McKay nodded.

Brian edged closer still, sliding his fingers under McKay's wrist and nudging his hand to rest against Brian's waist. "I want it, McKay. I want what you do." He leaned against McKay's shoulder, making him angle to brace their combined weight. McKay's thigh bunched against Brian's, muscle flexing to hold them still. "What about you? Why did you come here now?"

McKay's strong fingers clenched on his hip, his free hand flashing up to rake into Brian's hair, tightening to the point of pain. He turned just enough to take Brian's mouth in a hard kiss. "Because I wanted to." He shifted, pushed into Brian with his whole body, drove him back a step. "Let's get out of here. We can go to your place. I'd rather not go back to the hotel." That weird restraint flickered through his eyes again.

Brian took a shaky breath and let it out, nodding jerkily. "Anywhere," he said. "Anything you want."

* * *

_  
_

_The coffee smelled spectacular. McKay had his own office and his own coffeemaker. Brian wondered why he wasn't surprised._

_"Have a seat," McKay gestured at the chair across from his desk. Brian took it gingerly, looking around. The office was surprisingly large, since he was only a visiting professor. Then again, Brian had a feeling that this man never defined himself as 'only' anything. Hell, he probably used the visiting professor bit to justify the bigger space. McKay leaned on the edge of the desk, crossing his arms across his chest and looking down his nose. "You aren't in my class."_

_Brian recognized the power play for what it was and refused to let it work. He leaned back in his chair, slinging an arm over the back and slouching, grinning up at McKay cockily. "Well, thank you, Professor. I'm flattered that you took the time to look me up."_

_McKay snorted. "I didn't." Brian felt the smirk waver, kept it on his face in sheer stubbornness. "You came back. No one who actually takes my class and leaves comes back."_

_Brian blinked. "Really? No one?"_

_McKay pursed his lips, stood to move to the coffee maker. "Absolutely not. I'd tear them apart." He poured a mug full, sipped. "While they may not be smart enough to actually zip their own pants, they do tend to have a remarkable survival instinct." Apparently the coffee was cool enough, because he tipped his head back to take a longer drink. "Either you have no sense of self-preservation, or you aren't in my class." Cold blue eyes raked him head to foot. "I'm betting Marketing major. Possibly Political Science."_

_Brian tilted his head, swung smoothly to his feet. He picked up a mug, checked to be sure it was clean, poured himself a cup of coffee. He made sure to lean into McKay's personal space, taking a deep breath of the other man's scent, not being subtle about it either. "You got me," he said. "Marketing it is." He let his eyes go slightly sleepy, lifted his hand to McKay's shoulder. "Now you know you wouldn't be sleeping with one of your students."_

_McKay shrugged off his hand, sat back on the edge of his desk. Brian sighed and returned to his chair. "Can't say that would stop me if I wanted to, but none of them interest me. You do." He surveyed Brian again in that way that made him feel like he was being dissected. "You're smart. Beautiful. Arrogant. Gay." He said each word as though reading a checklist, paused. "Aggressive. You like to be in control, but you don't really know what to do with it once you're there." He tsked._

_"I know what to do with it." Brian interjected, stung._

_McKay smirked that crooked grin that he was sure meant all sorts of things, none of which actually had anything to do with humour. "I've no doubt you've mastered the basic concepts, with plenty of practice, too. You're pretty enough, and confident enough, to have people lining up for you. But what about when they leave in the morning?" He shrugged. "I'd think you'd want to be more than just a fuck. I'd think you'd want to be ... memorable." His eyes narrowed._

_"Come on." Brian shook his head, amused. "Who do you think you are, anyway?"_

_"Who am I?" He laughed. "I'm Dr. Rodney McKay, double Ph.D and the smartest guy you'll ever meet. I'm the guy who built an atomic bomb for my sixth grade science project. I'm the guy who makes your classmates cry." He leaned forward, pushing into Brian's space. "I'm the guy who knows more ways to make you come than you can count, and I'm the guy who's offering you the chance of a lifetime. Believe me, I already know who *I* am. I want to know who you are. So. Who are you? Are you the guy who wants that?" McKay's eyes bore into his, all the weight of that personality bearing down on him._

_Brian's mouth went dry. His stomach fluttered, and he fought back an almost overwhelming desire to just agree, right there on the spot. He swallowed hard, pushed to get words out without giving away his reaction. "You have a finely honed sense of modesty, I see," Brian coughed to cover the hoarseness of his voice, shook his head in exaggerated disbelief._

_McKay snorted. He stood and took Brian's face between his hands, sliding fingers along the curve of Brian's jaw to rest fingertips against his neck. He leaned over, and pressed his mouth to Brian's. It was a painfully gentle brush of soft lips against his, a tiny movement back and forth that had the hairs on his neck lifting. McKay's lips parted and his tongue flicked teasingly against the crease of Brian's mouth. His heart started to pound under the barely-there onslaught, and his eyes slid closed to concentrate better on the delicate sensations. He parted his lips, opening up to let that soft sweep of tongue taste more._

_The instant he responded, McKay took total, ruthless control._

_His fingers tightened on Brian's jaw, not enough to hurt but enough to hold him securely in place. His mouth pressed hard against Brian's, opening him up, taking possession. His tongue swept in, licking along the inside of his mouth, all slick heat and fiery taste. Brian's heart kicked into high gear, thundering in his ears. McKay took his lower lip between his teeth, nipping slightly before sucking on it hard, running the tip of his tongue back over it. He pushed Brian back in the seat, using his greater weight to pin him in place as he kissed him like he was going to eat him alive._

_He'd had hot, he'd had hard, but Brian had never felt anything like this, this fierce possession; was so hard in his pants that he was half-afraid he was going to embarrass himself right here, right now, without even a touch. When McKay pulled back Brian chased his mouth, barely recognizing the needy moans in the air as his own. He was panting, struggling against the hands holding him still._

_McKay released him. "It's not vanity if it's true," he said. In that moment, Brian believed him, absolutely. "Last chance. Are you the guy that wants that?"_

_Brian found himself nodding, his breath still heaving through his chest, pulse still throbbing through every extremity he had. McKay refused to let him off the hook. "Say it out loud, or the deal is off the table."_

_"Yes." Brian swallowed hard. "Yes, I'm the guy that wants that."_

_"Good." He smiled, the first genuine one Brian had seen on his face. He leaned back, and Brian suddenly felt that he could take a breath again. "Then as of now, I'm the guy who's in charge."_

* * *

When they turned to thread the crowd, John knew he had to intervene. This wasn't what he'd expected, hell no, when he insisted on coming back to Earth with Rodney, but he was here to protect him and he would. Even from this. He moved through the dancing crowd with the ease of navigating many alien marketplaces and stopped Rodney a good ten feet before the door. He was reaching for Rodney's arm when the man with him slid adroitly between them, knocking his hand aside in a way that could have been accidental but wasn't.

"Sheppard." Rodney tilted his head, leaned forward to make himself heard. The look on his face was part irritation, part resignation. The crowd parted to give them all room, though no one looked for more than a second. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised to see you here. I'm fine! Go on back to the hotel. I'll meet you there before we head back."

John was already shaking his head. "No. We're going back now."

Rodney raised his eyebrows. "We're not on base at the moment, Sheppard." The man standing between them looked amused, and breath-stoppingly beautiful. John barely spared him a glance. Instead, he gritted his teeth, leaned close, pushing into the dark-haired man's space. He wasn't worried about being overheard, but he also wasn't asshole enough to want the whole club to hear him. Not quite, anyway.

"I am aware of that, Rodney. But I'm not letting you go off on your own with some stranger you picked up in a bar."

Rodney laughed. One hand moved to the stranger's shoulder, the other to John's chest, pushing a little and separating them gently. "I don't pick up strangers, Sheppard," he said, at the same time the other man spoke.

"If he's so worried, he's welcome to join us." Malicious merriment danced in dark brown eyes as they raked Sheppard head to foot. It was possibly the most thorough checking-out John had ever had, the other man's posture radiating pure sex. Still, it was the thoughtful, assessing expression on Rodney's face that had his stomach clenching. The man tilted his head to look at Rodney, who was examining John, eyes narrowed in thought. His shoulders stiffened as he decided. There was apology in his voice as he spoke.

"Brian..."

The other man, _Brian_ , John corrected mentally, swung to look at Rodney full on, interrupting what John was sure would have been Rodney making his goodbyes. His lips curved into a smile that was almost but not quite mocking, and then he dropped to his knees in the middle of the floor. There was a gasp from the dancers; audible even over the music, and everyone around them took a step back, clearing the space even more. Brian lifted his face, looking up Rodney's body, lips wet and parted as he offered himself. Deliberately, Brian crossed his wrists behind his back. Unnerved and feeling completely out of his depth, John looked at Rodney, and saw a Rodney he had never seen before.

McKay's eyes had gone cold, reflecting alternating blue and green in the revolving lights. His face was hard, the tightness thinning down his features and making them more pronounced than usual. His body was taut under the snug clothes, his right hand rubbing thumb rapidly across fingers. He looked down into Brian's smirk with an icy lack of expression John didn't recognize. Brian's smile faded and he swallowed hard. "Who are you?" Brian asked, forcing out the words. He closed his eyes and waited. McKay's restlessly moving fingers stilled.

McKay lifted his gaze to John. The full effect slammed into him, and he swallowed hard too, locking his knees against the sudden, almost overwhelming need to kneel. "We're leaving," McKay said. "I suggest you go back to the hotel." He snapped his fingers, just once, and Brian rose unevenly, breathing hard, eyes dark and hot and needy. He leaned his forehead against McKay's shoulder as he stood, just briefly, like he couldn't stop himself. John shook his head stubbornly. "Then come on." Brian's shoulders tightened at the words, but he started moving for the door. McKay followed, pushing John ahead of him, leaning close to growl in his ear. "But if you're coming, you shut up and you don't interfere."

"It's my job to protect you, McKay."

McKay snorted in his ear. "It's not me you're going to want to protect."

* * *

Brian ignored the astonished looks on the dancers as he stepped through the crowd toward the door. He could feel McKay's presence solid and forceful behind him, was aware of the stranger between them. He lowered his head, relaxed his shoulders, and shortened his steps into a submissive posture as he stepped through the door. The bouncer on the door had been around last time McKay was in town, and just grinned. Brian flicked a smile at him, smirked at the memory of the utterly stunned expression that had still been lurking on McKay’s protector's face when he stopped them. It had been overlaid with resolve, but the shock had still been there.

Wherever McKay had been, he'd been hiding this part of his nature.

It was interesting, along with McKay needing protection, but not actually important. The only important thing right now was the flutter in his stomach and the thrill of anticipation running through his veins. He pictured the look on McKay's face as he'd dropped to his knees in the middle of the dance floor, felt a shiver down his spine.

He could feel the stranger's eyes on him, boring into his back, and couldn't bring himself to care.

* * *

_  
_

_"So what exactly did you have in mind?'_

_He'd met McKay at the man's hotel room; apparently the college was willing to shell out for nice accommodations on top of everything else. When he'd asked why, McKay had muttered something about death threats and the school wanting him to stay outside of general residence, which he supposed made sense in a fucked up kind of way. He had the feeling that everything about McKay needed to be viewed through glasses as skewed as he was._

_"Think of this, as a hands-on course." McKay told him, stripping off his suit jacket and tossing it absently on the bed. His T-shirt was a bright blue that brought out his eyes. "There's no better teacher than practical experience." He turned and watched Brian with unnerving intensity. "Kneel," he said._

_"What?"_

_McKay's face thinned down with displeasure, his eyes grew arctic. "I don't like repeating myself."_

_"Look, maybe..."_

_McKay reached him in one long step, anchoring a hand behind his neck and stepping into him hard, pushing him back against the wall. Through some trick of balance and skill, he had Brian pinned and just that one important inch below him so he could look down at him, so he could dominate. "Who’s in charge, Brian?"_

_Brian gulped, unable to look away from those icy blue eyes. "You are," he ground out reluctantly. McKay released him._

_"Strip, then," he commanded, and Brian slowly obeyed. McKay took the opportunity to remove his shoes, socks, and belt, ultimately facing Brian's nudity still dressed in his jeans, t-shirt and bare feet. Brian shivered a little under the weight of the regard and his unaccustomed vulnerability._

_"In order for you to be good at being a top, you need to know why something works. You need to know how it feels, how to make it feel good, *beyond* good. You need to know what felt good for you." McKay paused, snorted a little at himself. "Well, ok, you don't have to. Most don't. They just go with whatever they want. Idiots." He pierced Brian with a glare. "If you want to be the best on top, you need to understand the bottom." Brian frowned. "And to do that, you need to learn how to kneel."_

_Brian opened his mouth to object._

_McKay stopped the words with his mouth, taking his lips firmly but not bruisingly, consuming him with the kiss. Brian felt a hand behind his neck again, bringing him closer, and he moaned back in his throat. The fingers tightened, sliding forward until they splayed just over his collarbone, thumb pressing against his spine. With the things McKay was doing to his mouth, he barely noticed. The fingers flexed._

_An instant later, Brian found himself on his knees, his breath leaving him in a rush of arousal. His back arched involuntarily, and he moved further into the hands holding him in place. He opened his eyes, searching for McKay's face and finding it looking back at him impassively. "Oh, my god," he breathed out. "How did you do that?"_

_Instead of answering, McKay took a half-step to the side. "Look," he said, gesturing._

_The hotel room, as most, featured mirrors. One on the door, one on the wall, and Brian found himself looking at his own reflection from three feet away. He looked... he looked..._

_He looked *amazing*._

_His knees had spread when he hit the floor, involuntarily falling into a perfect triangle. His bare chest heaved, skin flushed and already damp with sweat. His hair fell over his forehead; his eyes were dark and hot with sex. His mouth was open, lips red and wet from McKay's kiss. The dark hair on his stomach was a perfect arrow to his dick, hard and aching at the apex of that triangle. McKay stood just to the side, facing him with that cold look on his face, jeans and t-shirt a pointed statement of power._

_God. Brian could barely breathe, it was so hot._

_"Now," McKay said. "Arms behind your back." He reached into the dresser beside him and pulled out what looked like leather bracelets. Dazed, still staring at his reflection, Brian obeyed. McKay dropped to one knee beside him, slid the bracers over his wrists and tied them in place with businesslike briskness. He regained his feet. Brian tugged at the restraints a little. The burn and release of his muscles against the resistance felt... it felt... it felt..._

_He looked up at McKay, panting helplessly in a combination of arousal and fear. McKay slid a hand into his hair, cradling his head gently. Brian leaned into the hold, watching McKay's face. The cold eyes didn't soften._

_"This is how you learn how to kneel." McKay shook him by the neck, just a little. Just enough to show that he could. Brian shuddered, his whole body bowing at the sensation that struck right down inside. Something he hadn't known was there answered to this. "And that is *why*."_

_Brian looked back at the mirror. And *saw*. "Oh, yeah," he said, looking up at McKay hotly, really meaning it this time. "Oh, yeah, you're in charge."_

_McKay smiled at him coldly. "I didn't say you could talk," he said._

* * *

John stared at Brian's wide shoulders and wondered what the hell he'd done when he agreed to come along. Something he'd regret, undoubtedly.

"Okay, Brian. You've made your point. Stop, now." McKay said suddenly as he came even with John. His voice was soft but the words clipped.

Immediately, Brian lifted his head and shook himself head to toe. His walk changed to a loose-limbed, easy hipped saunter that swayed his whole body in a way that just shouted 'sex'. John blinked. McKay ignored the change, held out his hand and snapped his fingers once. Brian grinned, dropped a set of keys into the outstretched fingers. McKay unhesitatingly stopped beside a new black Jeep and opened the door. Brian laughed a low, rich sound that made John shiver. "How'd you know it was mine?"

McKay rolled his eyes and pulled the driver's seat forward. Brian swung into the backseat with supple grace, leaving John shotgun. He shrugged, moved around to the passenger door and got in. McKay was already revving the engine. Brian's lips twitched as if he wanted to frown but the smile wouldn't let him. "It's the prettiest fuck-mobile on the street. It had to be yours."

"My other car's a Corvette."

"Of course it is." He peeled out in a squeal of tires, pitching them all back against the seats.

"I would like to have this one back, once you're done with it," Brian said silkily, leaning forward, bracing his arms along the back of the seat and placing his hand on McKay's shoulder. McKay shot him a glare and popped the clutch, throwing Brian back in the seat again. Brian just laughed, sprawling bonelessly across the leather. "Fucking McKAY!" He shouted at the roof of the car, curling his arms around his stomach as he laughed. "I couldn't believe it when I saw you! I thought you were gone, gone, gone."

"I'm back for a conference." McKay's lips twisted into a crooked smile. "Particle physics and applications to the seamless transmission of discrete packets of matter."

Brian gave another bark of laughter, reaching into his pocket for a package of cigarettes and a lighter. "I think I did the publicity for that, come to think of it." He lit up with the ease of long practice, blowing a perfect stream of smoke. "Transporters, huh?" He took another long drag as McKay rolled down the window. "Haven't seen you publish anything in the last four years, and you're doing a talk on _transporters_." He jerked his head to clear his hair from his eyes. John stared at him, mentally revising his opinion of the guy's brains. Brian flashed him a sultry smile. "I'd have expected inter-dimensional or temporal mechanics at the very least."

McKay grinned fiercely, watching Brian in the rear-view mirror. He lifted his hand, and Brian passed him the cigarette in a motion so automatic it looked rehearsed. "Well," he said, "They won't let me talk about any of that." He flicked the cigarette out the window. Brian just grinned and lit another.

"They." Brian gestured at John in a motion both graceful and dismissive. "He one of 'they'?"

McKay glanced at John, clearly considering exactly what to say. His eyes flared blue as they passed under another streetlight. "This is John," he finally said, smoothly enough. "We're friends. And he's here to protect me this trip. We've had issues the last couple of times I was in the States."

Stung, John narrowed his eyes. "Hey! At least one of those times it was in _Vancouver_ ," he muttered. McKay shrugged.

"Truthfully, it's a lot more dangerous for me at home than here," he admitted. "I live on what is pretty much a military base most of the time." His fingers drummed restlessly against the steering wheel as they stopped for a red light. "American military," he added casually.

"Hmmmmm." Brian raked his gaze over John appraisingly. "Ha! Flyboy, right?" His smile widened, turned predatory. John smirked back, the bright empty one he used on superior officers. Brian laughed. "You look kind of familiar. Were you ever stationed in Pittsburgh?"

McKay lifted his head, looked into the mirror, and caught Brian's eyes. "Brian." Nothing else, just his name. A dark flush spread over Brian's cheekbones as their gazes locked.

* * *

Fucking Christ. Just his name, and Brian was hard in his pants, reacting like a fucking teenager watching his first porn. Just his name, in that conversational tone, soft over steel. The tone that didn't sound like command, didn't have to, because the command was just _there_.

He realised it with a soft jolt of recognition. He had that voice. It was the voice he used with Justin.

Nervously, Brian licked his lips. McKay's eyes held his in the mirror with the force of a super magnet, the message in them absolutely clear. There would be no fucking around with John. The thought of defying him was heady; he couldn't help wondering what he could goad McKay into if he used this John as leverage.

McKay saw him thinking it, raised his brows just a little. The threat was there, oh yes. If he pushed this, McKay wouldn't give him punishment. No, if he pushed this, McKay wouldn't give him anything at all. Brian swallowed, hard.

Now, _that_ was unthinkable.

* * *

_  
_

_"You know," Brian gasped breathlessly as McKay did something wickedly sinful and wildly erotic to his neck, bracing himself on one hand and gripping Brian's shoulder tightly. "I'm a top."_

_McKay laughed, fingers tightening and rolling him expertly onto his stomach, pinning him there with his weight and sinking his teeth into the bulge of muscle between his shoulder and neck. Brian sucked in a breath and arched his back involuntarily against McKay's thighs, wondering disjointedly if his head was going to actually explode with the surge of sensation. McKay let go, nudged his nose under Brian's hair until he was breathing into his ear, short, controlled pants. His hands were busy on Brian's hips, tilting him just *so*. "Yeah," he muttered, amusement laid thickly over the heat of arousal. "That's what all the biggest bottoms say."_

_He thrust, and took the top of Brian's head off in one glorious burst of white._

* * *

John watched the silent exchange with more than a little disquiet. He'd seen McKay face down all sorts of people, all sorts of things, but this was something entirely different.

Also, none of those had been when he was _driving_.

After a long moment, he decided it had gone on long enough. "Watch the road, McKay. I'd like to get to wherever in one piece." To his surprise, it was Brian who looked away first, ducking his head a little, flicking his lashes in a brief glance at John before returning to watch the side of McKay's face. Some fleeting emotion flickered across the gorgeous features much too fast for John to name.

"He has no idea, does he?" Brian finally broke the silence, voice darkly amused. McKay arched an eyebrow at him in the mirror. "Who you are, underneath it all?"

"He comes closer than most." He laughed a sharp bark with a thread of bitterness. "But no. Not the way you mean. No."

"You sure he's ready to find out?"

"He is sitting right here," John snapped. Brian just smirked and blew a stream of smoke at him.

"Your friends seem to like me as much as ever,” McKay gave a smirk of his own as he changed the subject. Brian frowned at him. "Martin looked particularly annoyed," he clarified.

Brian's face cleared. "Michael. Ah," he said. "Them." He waved his hand. "Fuck 'em."

"I believe that's how we arrived at them not liking me in the first place." Brian grunted his agreement, taking another drag. John shook his head.

"They don't like you cause you slept with them?" He totally felt as though most of this conversation was in code.

"Oh, no. They don't like me because I refused to." McKay's smirk became a grin that was gleefully malicious. He hit the turn signal, thigh muscles bunching as he downshifted smoothly, pulling into a parking spot in front of a non-descript reclaimed industrial building.

* * *

_  
_

_"What the hell are you *doing* with him, Brian? He's an asshole! Pretty enough I suppose, but still, *asshole*." Michael hissed angrily. Brian slung an arm around his neck, pulling him in close to his body, using his heat and size to soothe his friend as he'd done so many times. Michael shoved at him half-heartedly. McKay glanced up from across the club, scanning the crowd with ice-cold eyes that stopped on Brian's. He felt his body relax even more, reflexively sinking into that place where only McKay mattered, where he existed only for what McKay would give him. The laser-like gaze moved on, and Brian almost sagged with its passing. He blinked. "Jesus, Brian!" This time when Michael shoved he meant it, and Brian stood up with an aggrieved sigh. "What kind of fucking spell has this guy put on you that you're acting like this?"_

_Brian shrugged, irritated. "So he's an asshole. In case you haven't noticed," he leaned into Michael's space, as if imparting a secret, "*I'm* an asshole."_

_"Oh, I've noticed."_

_"Plus, he fucks like a champion." He pulled out a cigarette, lit it absently._

_"I wouldn't know," Michael groused sourly._

_"And you never will, Martin." McKay slid against Brian's side, reaching for the cigarette. Brian handed it over immediately, automatically reaching for another for himself, signalled the bartender for another drink. Michael's face darkened with fury._

_"It's *Michael*, and I wouldn't want to anyway," he managed to grind out. Brian sighed, knowing already there was no good way for this to end._

_"That's convenient." McKay lifted his chin, took the offered drink, caught the bartender's attention with a rapid snap of fingers, flipped him a bill with a quick gesture to indicate he was buying for all of them. He gave Michael a sidelong look from under thick lashes. "Since I don't fuck bottoms anyway." He knocked back the drink, pursed his lips as Brian choked on his scotch and Michael turned even redder. "Not unless they're blond." He tapped on the wrist of the still spluttering Brian before Michael could come up with a retort. "I'm done for tonight." He spun on his heel, strode across the floor towards the door. The dancers peeled out of his way, closed back in when he passed, as if he moved in a force field of his own making._

_Brian supposed he did, come to think of it. He swallowed the rest of his drink and followed, ignoring Michael's choked rage behind him. The crowd moved for him a lot more reluctantly than for McKay, and despite his haste it was a good thirty feet past the door before he caught up. Even then, it helped that McKay had stopped to light a cigarette. Brian braced himself._

_"I want to go with you tonight."_

_McKay looked up as his lighter flared, the yellow light turning his eyes black instead of their usual slate blue. "Where?"_

_Brian firmed his back, straightened his shoulders, used his height. "Home."_

_McKay snorted. "I don't have a home." He blew a plume of smoke into the night air, watched it idly._

_Brian licked his lips. "Anywhere, then. Anywhere at all."_

_That got McKay's attention, brought his gaze snapping back to Brian's face. His eyes narrowed, and then his lips twisted in a grim smile as he rubbed a hand over his mouth. He leaned into Brian's body, curled his other hand around the back of Brian's neck. The fingers tightened just enough for Brian to feel the bite. McKay nuzzled his nose behind Brian's ear. Brian closed his eyes, lowered his head to McKay's shoulder helplessly. "Kneel," he breathed into Brian's ear._

_He obeyed without thinking, dropping to his knees in the middle of the alley, leaning into McKay's hand, into his thigh. The slush on the ground was a cold dampness seeping into the fabric of his jeans, but when McKay's hand slipped to his cheek, thumb pushing boldly into his mouth, he couldn't bring himself to care. "Such an eager student," McKay crooned. "I suppose I could be convinced to give you some more lessons."_

_Brian stared up at him, swallowed hard, his tongue moving against the pad of McKay's thumb. McKay shifted slightly, setting his feet more solidly against the ground. He curled his fingers under the edge of Brian's jaw, the pressure urging him back to his feet. Brian stood. It took him a moment to gather his nerve, because McKay might take this the wrong way and Brian was not at *all* ready for this to be over. McKay was striding away, not waiting for him to follow, taking another drag on his cigarette. Brian trotted to catch up, falling into step beside him._

_"Why?" He finally blurted out. "Why are you doing this?"_

_McKay looked surprised at the question. He flicked his cigarette to the side, ground it out against the pavement._

_Brian persisted. "Really. Why?"_

_"For the best reason there is," McKay told him. Brian arched an eyebrow at him, and he smiled crookedly in response. "Because I want to."_

* * *

John felt the tension build across his shoulders as he stepped into the industrial elevator. The fact McKay had driven them straight here meant that they weren't walking into a trap, but a part of his brain insisted that there was trouble here. Looking at McKay, looking at this Brian guy leaning against McKay like he was the only support in the universe, he knew that little part of his brain was right. This was trouble.

Not like Genii trouble. More like earthshaking, groundbreaking, never go back to the way things were before kind of trouble. Christ, what was he _thinking_ , letting Rodney come here?

McKay ran his hand absently over Brian's hip, making him actually lean his chin on McKay's shoulder. Right.

After all, Rodney had told him not to come. He really should have listened.

John blinked, returned to studying the walls of the elevator.

"It's a refurbished building," McKay said suddenly, and John realised he'd noticed John's preoccupation. "Turned into urban lofts." The elevator stopped and Brian lifted the cage, rapidly turning off the alarm and opening the door. "Pretty impressive, actually."

Stepping into the loft, John had to agree. "Nice decor," he offered slowly. Brian snorted, heading for the mid-room kitchenette.

"Keeps me off the floor," he said, then grinned a slow, lascivious stretch of lips. "Mostly." He pulled down glasses from the cabinet over the sink. "What'll you have to drink?" He opened a bottle of scotch, poured two generous tumblers, cocked an eyebrow at John.

"Uh. Beer, if you've got it." Brian nodded, opened the fridge. "Mind if I look around?" McKay was already following the perimeter of the room, looking closely at the paintings and drawings on the walls. Brian shrugged, flicked the cap off a Molson Canadian and handed it over. John smirked at the bottle and they exchanged a look of shared amusement. McKay turned, snapped his fingers for his drink.

John followed his path around the room, enjoying the silence after the pounding music at the club. He snuck glances at McKay, still making his circuit of the room. Brian had taken his own drink to the very modern armchair in the minimally defined seating area and had spun it so that he faced the middle of the room. He watched McKay silently, his face unreadable. John turned his attention back to the art on the walls. It was excellent. John tipped his beer bottle, took a long drink. The cold beer slid down his throat eagerly. He flicked another glance at McKay.

He was relaxing, the tension slowly but surely draining from the lines of his body, to be replaced with an entirely different kind of energy. Usually he would look smaller as he smoothed out, but this time as he let go McKay was becoming more. This time it was like all that vibrant energy was building into something explosive.

"Where's Justin?" McKay asked it softly, unexpectedly, velvet over steel.

Out of the corner of his eye, John saw Brian jerk slightly, reach up to rub his chest. "New York," the answer came a long beat later. McKay pursed his lips and nodded, scanned the room restlessly. Brian scrubbed his hand through his hair. "I'm impressed you remembered his name."

McKay's lips twisted into something that could have been a smile on any other day. "I remember the important ones, Brian."

Brian sucked in a breath, and then stood in a contained swirl of motion. Tension radiated from him. He stared at McKay hotly, like he was made of jumpers and Ferris wheels and chocolate all at once. McKay held his gaze impassively, finally flicking a glance at John.

Suddenly John felt tired. Whatever happened, regardless of whether it was a bad idea, he'd chosen to be here, and whatever it was, he could handle it. "Rodney," he said, "Give the man what he wants."

Both men turned to look at him with identical looks of irritation and offense. It was clear that, good intentions or not, that had been the wrong thing to say. "What?" McKay asked irritably. John took another swig of his beer, a smaller one this time, and tried again.

"Tell you what, McKay," he said, dropping into the cushions at the darkest end of the couch so that he could watch the door and the room. "I'll just be over here."

McKay narrowed his eyes, searching his face intently. John kept his expression blank and open, comfortably drinking his beer. Brian smiled crookedly. When McKay spoke he was already moving.

"Brian, can you get John a couple more beers? We're going to be here a while."

* * *

The anticipation was killing him.

He watched McKay out of the corner of his eyes, watched him circle the room again, watched him shedding that other person little bit by little bit. The silence that should have been awkward was instead charged with electric tension.

John had accepted his six-pack of beers with a head-tilt and a rueful grin and had done his best to become invisible on the couch. Brian appreciated the effort. Frankly he'd rather the man left entirely, but he got it, he did. He was McKay's bodyguard, McKay's friend, and he wasn't going anywhere. But, at least he'd decided not to actively interfere, either. He looked pretty on the couch, all dark hair and dark lines sprawled against the white cushions. Brian licked his lips, considered again using him to force McKay into action. He surveyed John again, the sweep of dark lashes against cheekbones, the pull of t-shirt across chest, the working of his adam's apple as he drank. He pursed his lips, turned to look at McKay.

Ok, yeah.

No contest.

McKay had finally turned from the artwork, was watching him watch John from across the room. He stood at just the right angle that his eyes reflected the light, making them glint coldly. He was close, so close to the surface that Brian could almost taste him already. With McKay looking at him like that, there was no one else in the room. Maybe Justin could compete, but Justin wasn't here.

John might be the most amazing fuck in the world, but ultimately it would be the same thing he could get damned near anywhere else. Only one person could do _this_ to him. Only McKay.

Brian sidled closer, his fingers coming up to the buttons on his shirt.

* * *

_  
_

_"What's with the name thing?"_

_McKay lifted his eyes to meet Brian's, hips moving smoothly, lips parted and wet. He took a breath, shoved hard. Brian moaned, eyes fluttering closed. "Am I boring you?" he asked, warning clear in his voice._

_"No." Brian gasped, tried to gain some measure of control as his fingers scrabbled at the headboard. The silk ropes binding his wrists together over his head gave just enough to prevent him from catching hold. "More, please?"_

_McKay rocked back, hands pressing Brian's thighs wider, making him clench more tightly. Even with all the lube it was on the edge of painful, riding that shining line of too much. "What name thing?" He sounded almost conversational, utterly in control. Brian arched, shuddered. "Answer me, Brian. What name thing?"_

_"You..." He gasped as McKay flexed against the backs of his legs, compelled to answer by the command. "You. Don't remember. Names."_

_McKay leaned over him, licking a long stripe up his chest and setting his teeth against his nipple, hard. Brian jerked against his ropes, muscles clenching across his ribs, rewarded by a hiss of breath as he tightened even further around McKay's length. "Names are irrelevant," he whispered into Brian's ear, fingers gripping his hips hard, pressing new bruises over old. It felt so fantastic Brian almost swooned. "Mostly. Mine counts, of course."_

_Brian smiled involuntarily, opening his eyes to see McKay directly above him, staring down at him with that blend of heat and ice that no one else could ever pull off. God, it was hot. "You.." McKay thrust, cutting off the thought. Stubbornly he breathed through the burst of sensation, kept his eyes open as McKay's narrowed. "You remember." He grinned, huffed a noise that might have been a laugh if McKay wasn't fucking the breath out of him. "Mine. Must be ‘cause you like me."_

_McKay shook his head in amusement, the look on his face almost pitying. "No, not because I like you." He lifted Brian's hips, covered his mouth with one broad hand, and drove into him with all the weight and power in his body. For one long moment, Brian wondered if he'd ever breathe again. His body tightened into a single point of concentration, a singularity of breathless sensation, and then... detonation. He came like he was breaking apart at the seams, like he could never be put back together again. McKay moved his hands to hold his head in place, staring straight into his eyes through the incredible overload of sensations, until Brian was sure he had no secrets left. McKay had plundered them all._

_"Not because I like you," McKay told him seriously as he started rocking his hips, started arousing him all over again. "Because I own you."_

* * *

Brian played idly with the buttons on his shirt as he watched McKay take a long pull on his drink, eyes heavy lidded and thoughtful. McKay followed his fingers as they moved restlessly, opening the shirt further with each smooth twitch. Flick. Flick.

McKay set down the tumbler.

Brian stepped up, _right_ up to him, invading his personal space. Even after everything he'd seen tonight John half-expected Rodney to duck his head and step away, but he didn't. Instead, he tilted his head back slightly to look Brian straight in the eyes. The other man smirked at him, taller by a good four or more inches and making practiced use of every millimetre. His body swayed against McKay, touching ever so slightly as he pulled the sleeveless shirt off his shoulders and let it puddle on the floor.

McKay narrowed his eyes. "You've grown."

Brian stared down at him, licked his lips. "Is that what it is?" He tilted his head, ran his nose the length of McKay's cheek, not quite touching. As if he was scenting him. "Is that what's different?"

McKay's hands. those strong clever hands, lifted to glide over Brian's shoulders, coming to rest with fingers curving around the back of Brian's neck, thumbs cocked under the line of his jaw. McKay flexed his wrists, arched Brian's head back as if preparing to lick his neck, ignoring the muffled moan. He eyed the exposed length of skin intently, tension singing through the lines of his body.

"Are you nervous with your guard here?" Brian goaded softly, his voice hoarse. "Is that it? You're afraid to come out and play?"

McKay's lips tightened and his shoulders tensed. John had a bare instant to realise how terribly vulnerable the angle of Brian's neck was between those powerful fingers before the muscles in McKay's forearms bunched and he _moved_... did something so fast and subtle and _complicated_ with those hands that Brian was thudding to his knees almost before John saw him move. The angle that had looked so arrogant with Brian on his feet was now pure supplication, perfect alignment, like something had clicked into place. Brian stared up the long line of McKay's body. McKay's face was marble cold, hard and dispassionate as he held Brian's head, glaring down at him.

Brian's breath left him in a gasp. He sucked in a breath through parted lips, exhaled with a shuddering moan. "OHhhhhh." Another breath, almost a pant. He licked his lips, body loosening, all but hanging from McKay's hands. "There you are." His wrists crossed behind his back, hands open and loose. The movement was reflexive, ingrained, conditioned. It was the same pose he'd used so effectively in the club, but John could see the difference. This time it was real. This time, it was _heartfelt_.

And _hot_. God, it was hot. John felt his heart stutter in his chest.

"Nicely done manipulation at the club," McKay muttered down at Brian. "Can't say I approve of your methods but I have to admire your style." His fingers tightened, eliciting a muffled moan. "What the hell am I going to do with you?"

"Anything. Anything you want." Brian gasped it out, lifting into the touch on his face. McKay blinked slowly, considering.

"Anything I want." Brian nodded at him, eyes glazed and gleaming in the dim light. "All right. Blow me." His voice darkened. "And do a good job. You've got a lot to make up for."

This time, John swore he felt his heart actually _stop_.

Jesus. H. Christ.

* * *

Oh, fuck.

Finally.

The anticipation that had been coiling tighter and tighter in Brian's chest let go with a sensation that was almost pain. Just the release of tension was a keenly-edged pleasure, and McKay knew it too, damn him. Brian fell headlong into that warm static space in his head, that place he craved. The place that only McKay had the key to. It was like sliding into a warm bath in the dark, like being bundled into soft blankets. It was, in some indefinable way, like coming home. No thinking, no calculating, no weighing the odds or playing the angles. No responsibility. Just sensation and desire and this fucking need to _please_.

He raised shaking fingers to the waist of McKay's jeans, looking up into his impassive face. "No hands," McKay snapped, and Brian leaned forward, automatically setting his teeth to the flap of denim, to pull the button loose. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath of soap-clean, male, hot skin and that unique scent that was simply _McKay_. He gripped the fabric tightly between his teeth, tugged lightly. The button popped free, and Brian buried his nose against the soft flesh revealed there. The smell was fucking intoxicating, more than the scotch, better than anything. He couldn't keep the whimper from rising in the back of his throat.

The metal of the zipper was a bitter tang against his tongue, the rasp of it lowering a harsh vibration against his teeth. He could feel the bulge of McKay's erection hot against his cheek and slowed his pace, savouring the wealth of sensations. He could hear McKay's gasp over him, looked up through his lashes.

McKay's eyes were heavy lidded, dark and cold. Brian shuddered at the look, fought back the desire to just climb McKay's body and wrap around him and never let go. Instead, he leaned into McKay's body, nuzzling his pants open. His nose hit silky soft skin, and he groaned, shifting even closer to lick inside, McKay curled over him at the sensation, shoving his jeans open further impatiently and freeing his erection. Brian went for it without hesitation, licking eagerly over the head, tracing the veins with his tongue before plunging his head and taking him completely inside. McKay was exactly as he remembered, long and thick and heavy and hard and god, tasting so good. Brian had to grip his wrist in his fist to keep from grabbing for McKay's hips to pull him deeper.

McKay straightened, slid his hands to curve fingers around his skull, and thrust hard.

Brian opened his eyes, stared up at him hotly, and swallowed him down more.

* * *

_  
_

_"It's going to be weird when you leave." Brian said. "I've gotten used to this." He paused, fell back on the bed. As usual in McKay's hotel room, he was naked. At this point he barely noticed, just stripped as soon as he came the through the door. "Used to you."_

_"I never promised you anything," McKay told him coldly as he packed away the latest set of science journals and student submissions. "This is my last semester here. The job I have going is an important one, the only place I'm likely to get to use my brain for something useful, even if I have to work with the military." His voice darkened with real irritation. "The fucking *American* military, too. Jesus."_

_"Geeze, McKay, chill. I'm not planning on asking you to bear my children or anything. Fuck me, maybe..." Brian eased onto his side, consciously falling into a pose that showed off the long lines of his naked body in the way McKay liked. McKay smirked at him. "How do you work for them? I mean, considering that they're so anti-homo, and you're ..." He waved a hand, "you."_

_McKay lifted an eyebrow. "First, I also fuck women. They're pretty and soft and beg even better than you do." Brian rolled onto his stomach and glared. "Second, I don't exactly bring it up at briefings. I figure if my dick isn't actually penetrating their asses, it really isn't any of their business."_

_Brian nodded slowly. McKay slammed the last few journals into the open box on the floor, then gave him a long look. "Tell you what," he said uncomfortably. "I'll look you up, every time I'm in Pittsburgh. Don't know how often that will be though." He sighed, and something flickered over his face, something Brian was sure McKay didn't want him to see. A moment later and the blue eyes were back on his, steadily. "It's all I can give you."_

_Brian rolled to his knees, lowering his head and breathing through his mouth, one of McKay's favourite poses, utter submission. He crossed his wrists behind his back. McKay's eyes darkened and he stepped forward, hands shifting to the button of his jeans. As the rasp of the zipper sounded loudly in the room, Brian took a deep, shuddering breath. "I'll take it," he said._

_"Yes," McKay agreed, fingers sliding to the back of his neck. "You will."_

* * *

" _Jesus_ , McKay," John ground out in a whisper, watching the lazy sway of his hips as he let Brian blow him. He barely recognized his own voice. Rodney lifted his head from watching the long glide forward into Brian's mouth, looked past him with icy eyes and face tight with heat and ... power, John realised. Dominance. For a moment he thought McKay had heard him, thought he would respond. Instead he groaned, blinked sluggishly, and John realised that all his attention was focussed on the man kneeling in front of him, regardless of where his eyes were directed.

He didn't know how long it went on, how long he was enthralled by the image in front of him. McKay's legs flexing against the snug denim of his jeans, his hands pale against the dark satin of Brian's hair, the long line of the black T-shirt draped over powerful shoulders, the muscles in his forearms outlined clearly as he directed Brian's mouth. Brian's eyes were closed, his face a combination of peaceful and blissed out, his lashes a dark fan over flesh drawn tight against cheekbones. His hands remained tight behind his back, delineating the curves and hollows of his arms and back. The dim overhead light spilled gold over them both; the whole scene looked beautiful.

When the hell had he gotten so fucking poetic, anyway?

John groaned under his breath, shifted on the couch to spread his legs and release some of the pressure on his groin. The beer bottle was cold in his grasp, and he made a conscious effort to loosen his fingers. He fought back the desire to reach down and adjust himself, to undo his zipper, to take himself in hand...

McKay licked his lips, tilted his head back to the ceiling as if fighting for control. His other hand dropped to Brian's hair, fingers digging through the dark strands and fisting to hold him still, hold him tightly against his body as Brian deep throated him. Brian made an inarticulate noise and John realised Rodney's knuckles were white in other man's hair. Immediately McKay eased back, giving Brian some much needed air. Brian fought McKay's hands, fought to take him back down again.

John closed his eyes and tried to remember how to breathe.

* * *

Brian was barely aware of the hands pushing him away from McKay's body. His whole world had narrowed to the heavy weight of McKay's cock on his tongue, the liquid glide of the head down his throat. He moaned and muttered around it, feeling his throat flutter and the vibration of McKay's answering groan against his lips. He swallowed, trying to get closer, trying to get _more_.

McKay pushed him off, holding him away with one hand clenched in his hair. "Enough," he said evenly when Brian would have gone back. "I want to fuck you, Brian." His face was flushed and he should have sounded out of breath, but didn't. Brian licked his lips, chasing the taste of McKay's skin. He was leaning so hard into the hand in his hair that his scalp was starting to hurt in sharp little arrows of pain. McKay read it in his face and let go, almost spilling him to the floor. He stepped back. "Get up." Brian stumbled to his feet. "Strip." Brian reached for the waistband of his pants, more than ready to release the pressure on his own straining hard on. McKay slapped his hands away. "Not you," he said. "Me."

* * *

_  
_

_"What are we doing here?" Brian looked up at the white signs declaring 'Babylon' to the world. "I thought you said you had something different in mind?"_

_"I do." McKay smirked at him and led the way inside. It was another rocking night, and the club was packed. McKay made his way to the catwalk overlooking the dance floor, Brian following bemusedly behind. He leaned against the railing, and Brian slouched beside him, arm pressed warmly against his._

_"Well?" Brian watched him closely, trying to figure out this latest twist. "What's up?"_

_"You are." McKay reached into his pocket, pulled out a pack of cigarettes and lit one up. He handed it to Brian, pulled another for himself. "Tonight you get to show me what you've learned."_

_Brian jerked upright in surprise. "What?" He felt a smile start to tug at his lips. This? This was better than acing his latest exam._

_McKay gestured over the mob of gyrating men. "Pick one," he invited. The grin took over, and Brian turned to the crowd to hide it. He returned to his lean against the railing, this time pressing into McKay tightly. He let his eyes roam over the dancers below. A bright head of blond hair caught his attention and he pointed with his cigarette._

_"How about him?"_

_McKay followed his gesture and snorted. "Too easy." He followed the glide of the other man's hips as they swayed to the beat. "Pretty though." He shook his head a little, as if to clear it. "Yeah, pretty, but he's a pushover, practically begging for it already. I was thinking of slightly bigger game." The look he turned on Brian was challenging._

_Brian lifted his chin in a movement he recognized even as he did it. With an internal sigh he turned back to the crowd, this time looking for the eddies and flows that would show the hunters looking for targets. He passed over a couple of guys playing minor dominance games near the backroom, skipped a big guy that looked like he could bench press him and McKay both. Finally his gaze settled on a little pool of stillness to their right, where one man lounged loose-limbed against one of the pillars. The man was about McKay's height but his build was closer to Brian's, and he was dressed in what looked like black but Brian figured was likely dark blue.. He was well put together, with short dark hair, regular features and a tight body, and Brian didn't know exactly what it was, but this guy felt strong. Felt right. He glanced at McKay, found him looking back with a private smile on his face. He didn't have to point the guy out, just raised his brows. McKay nodded, waved a hand in a 'go-ahead'._

_Brian straightened his shoulders, enjoying the admiring glances he got from the other men around him. He put on his best arrogant smirk and started down the steps, moving through the dancers on the floor like a shark threading a school of fish. The dancers moved aside without even looking, as though they *felt* him coming, and Brian realised that from above he was creating a visible trail of movement. By the time he reached his target, the smile and the confidence were genuine._

_The man straightened as Brian approached. Brian didn't pause, simply walked into him, pushing him against the pillar at his back. The man was bigger than Brian had thought but still shorter than himself. Lights strobed and Brian saw irritation written in the guy's face. He smiled wider, leaned forward so his breath would play over the man's ear. "I'm Brian," he said, lifting a hand to the guy's shoulder and pressing his fingers in a sensual splay over his collarbone. He flexed just a little, just in that exact way that always had his knees going weak when McKay did it to him. The man's legs shifted against his and he realised that it was working. "I'm going to take you home and fuck you blind." Another squeeze and he was the only thing holding the guy up. The sense of power was huge, overwhelming, it was fucking intoxicating, and Brian needed more more more.... "Come with me now." The guy was nodding dazedly, his mouth moving to agree in something approaching a babble and Brian was so goddamned hard he wasn't sure he wasn't going to do the guy *right here* in the middle of Babylon's dance floor, and this guy was so hot for it he would *let him*..._

_He took a deep breath, got hold of his control with both hands, wrestled himself into submission, stood up straight so the guy wasn't pinned against the pillar any more. He started moving for the door, just trusting the guy would follow. He glanced up at the catwalk, meeting McKay's eyes triumphantly. McKay nodded at him, just as the guy leaned against his shoulder and spoke into his ear. "God, you know, I'm a top, but I want you to fuck me all night."_

_"Yeah," Brian growled, pulled him in front to better push him through the crowd. "That's what all the biggest bottoms say."_

_It was hours later when Brian found himself in front of McKay's door, knocking. McKay opened the door already naked, letting him in with a yawn. Brian slid to his knees before the door fully closed behind him, hands desperate on McKay's hips, mouth frantic on his stomach. It took both of McKay's hands raking into his hair, fisting against his scalp before he could pause to breathe. He tilted his head up, still licking the skin just under McKay's navel. McKay was smiling at him, a coldly crooked grin that made Brian's stomach shudder._

_"So it was good, then?"_

_"Good?" Brian laughed, throwing his head back in amusement, pulling away from McKay's hands in the process. "God, McKay. That was... It was..." He closed his eyes, unable to stop the smile pulling his mouth wide. "It was fucking amazing. Absolutely fucking amazing." The grin faltered, and he swallowed hard, lacking the ability to put what he was feeling into words, even in his own head. He sagged back on his heels, rubbed his face with both hands._

_He started to shake._

_McKay stepped between his knees, walking right into the line of his body and pressing him back upright on his knees. Reflexively he wrapped his arms around McKay's hips, turned his face against the soft rasp of the hair on his belly. McKay slid one hand into his hair in something that was almost a caress, then pulled him to his feet. That overwhelming feeling of ... whatever it was receded in the face of this familiar dance of arousal. "Good," McKay murmured against his ear. "Sounds like perfect timing for your next lesson, then."_

_Looking down into cold blue eyes from an inch away, Brian could not have agreed more_.

* * *

McKay's harsh demand rumbled through the room.

John's eyes snapped back open in time to see Brian reach for the hem of McKay's shirt. The black silk pulled taut against McKay's back before sliding up his torso, revealing his skin inch by inch. John had always thought McKay's paleness would be too light, too soft, but here... here he was gorgeous, all shining lines and taut flesh against the inky darkness behind him. The shirt swept the rest of the way over his head, and John sucked in his breath at the breadth of shoulders and heavy muscle revealed. The noise was covered by Brian's outright groan as he leaned forward and set his mouth against McKay's collarbone. He wasn't ripped by any means, but he was solid, and strong, and _god_. He looked good enough to eat.

The shirt dropped to the floor, forgotten.

Brian's hands slid down McKay's back, curled over the waistband of his jeans, pressed down. The pants came off more easily than their faithful moulding of McKay's ass and legs would have implied, and John was caught between being impressed at Brian's skill and being irritated that the hands on McKay weren't _his_.

And where the hell had _that_ thought come from?

Hurriedly he lifted his beer bottle to his mouth only to find it empty. He reached for the next automatically, opened it with a twist of his wrist and drank half of it in one long swallow, tilting his head back and pulling hard. When he opened his eyes, he almost choked, barely avoiding spraying himself with beer.

McKay was naked. And so was Brian. Damn, the man stripped fast.

Brian was plastered the full length of McKay's body, moving against him rhythmically, almost helplessly. McKay took his arm between hard fingers and spun him around. McKay pressed against Brian's back, hands gripping his biceps hard enough that John could see the shadows cast by each finger. McKay tugged, and Brian arched, his head falling back to McKay's shoulder. McKay licked his lips, set his mouth against the side of Brian's neck. John could see the muscle in his jaw move as he raked his teeth along Brian's throat, watched him set his mouth against the ridge of muscle between neck and shoulder, saw his cheeks hollow as he sucked, _hard_.

Brian's knees buckled, and McKay rode him to the floor, still plastered against his back like a second skin. The sound Brian made as he dropped to all fours was all guttural pleasure, downright pornographic. McKay pulled upright on his knees, dragged Brian back with him until he was all but sitting in McKay's lap. McKay shoved with his hips, pulled with his hands, curving Brian's back into a bow and wringing another deep groan from the other man. The sound went right to John's groin, which needed absolutely no encouragement.

John wondered if the light-headedness was because of the beer or because he kept forgetting to fucking breathe. Sure, he'd figured out back at the bar that this wasn't McKay's first ride at the rodeo, but this... this wasn't some dabbler, some _hobbyist_. The way he was manipulating Brian, with hands and body and that delicate application of force employed just right; that was real. No, at this, McKay had fucking _skills_. Absently he realised this should probably be bothering him more.

John watched McKay tumble Brian flat and panting onto his back, slap his hands away again. Brian groaned. His chest was heaving, his eyes fluttering closed only to open again with desperate greed as McKay slid a hand over his erection. John saw the faint shadow of bruises starting to form against Brian's perfect skin already, could all but taste the sweat starting to sheen McKay's neck and shoulders. He swallowed hard, suddenly desperately thirsty all over again.

He drained the rest of his beer, reached for the next. If he had to watch (Jesus!) McKay giving a live sex show, the least he could do was get drunk enough to appreciate it properly.

* * *

Brian reached for the back of McKay's neck, wanting to drag him down for another of those deep drugging kisses, to roll him underneath and bite his way down the long line of his body. To lick his cock and take him deep and swallow him _down_...

McKay slapped his hands away again, this time with enough of a snap to sting. Brian dropped his arms over his head, arching up into McKay's thighs, desperate for the contact. "Grabby," McKay leaned down, licked a nipple with slow deliberation. Brian gasped, struggled not to curl up around him. "Do I need to tie you up?"

Brian's heart stopped in his chest.

His whole body twisted with the rush of adrenaline. Every nerve ending, everywhere, burst into tingling life. The bone-deep prickle was so powerful it was almost painful, and his cock jerked against his stomach. God, restrained, so he could twist and pull and feel the burn... He was nodding even before he fully processed the question.

McKay leaned back, ran a hand along his ribs, stroked over his cock. "Get them then," he said.

"Bedroom," Brian gritted against the sensation.

"Of course." McKay smiled coolly. "Go ahead."

* * *

_  
_

_Brian came awake to darkness and the sound of music._

_He lay still, absorbing the smells and sounds around him. Slowly his eyes opened and he scanned the hotel room. The music was coming from a small stereo and speakers that he'd never seen actually used before, and McKay was an area of slightly more solid shadow in the dark room._

_The music was lovely, all swirling highs and throbbing lows. Classical, and for some reason he was surprised. Somehow classical just .. .fit McKay, in a way he couldn't define, but until he had heard it play, until he had thought about it, he would never have associated the two._

_"I like this music," McKay said suddenly, conversationally._

_Brian hummed softly, unsure of this mood. "Do you play?"_

_"No." McKay shifted in his seat, settled heavily. Brian shivered, the tiny hairs on his skin lifting. Despite the dark, he knew McKay was watching him, examining him. When his voice came again, it made him jump. "No passion. At least, not in execution."_

_In other circumstances, Brian might have laughed. The very idea of McKay doing anything without fire was ridiculous. But tonight, no, tonight there was something ... Brian considered carefully, "Perhaps you should try again," he said finally. "For yourself, even if you don't play otherwise."_

_McKay stood, took the three steps to the side of the bed. Brian could see the faint outline of his body against the only slightly lesser black of the room. His hands were flexing between fists and outstretched fingers, moving restlessly. That strange electric feeling intensified, like a storm about to break. Brian shuddered faintly at the dance of nerves across his skin._

_"McKay?" He ventured tentatively._

_McKay reached out, expertly flipped him onto his back, placed his hands against the headboard with a curt order to leave them there. He pulled away long enough to turn the music up, just a little, then returned to Brian's side on the bed. Brian was shivering now, though the room was more than warm enough. He felt sweat slide down his temple, felt his heartbeat thundering in his chest._

_"Are, uh." He licked suddenly dry lips. "Are you ok?"_

_McKay knelt between his legs, pushed his thighs wide with absurdly gentle hands. It was so totally at odds with the feeling in the room that Brian felt a jolt of real fear. "No," McKay said, his voice rougher than Brian had ever heard it before. "But I will be."_

* * *

McKay knelt over Brian, caging him with arms and thighs, his hand still tracing patterns on his chest and stomach. Brian closed his eyes, clearly struggling, trying to force himself to move away from McKay's hands. "Go on," McKay urged, soft and steely. "Your restraints are waiting."

John watched Brian's fists flex rhythmically, saw him take a deep breath, and only when they moved in unison did he realise he'd been unconsciously copying the other man. Brian wriggled slowly out from under McKay, obviously fighting to continue moving as McKay trailed his fingers along his sides, thighs, even his erection. John was captured by a combination of the rapidly working alcohol and the play of those clever fingers against Brian's pale skin. He followed the line of McKay's arm to the heavy muscle of his shoulder, to his face.

He expected heat, or aggression, or maybe playfulness. Instead he found McKay watching Brian's efforts with a calm, dispassionate gaze, cold. The angle of his view slimmed McKay's face, showing him what he must have looked like fifteen years ago. McKay's lashes cast shadows over his cheekbones, the light spiking through them just enough to light his eyes. Every brush of his fingertips across Brian's skin was deliberate, calculated to torment.

Brian made it the last couple of inches away, sat up, pressed his lips to McKay's in a hard, desperate movement. John lifted the bottle to his lips at the same moment, drank deeply as Brian licked into McKay's mouth. They pulled away in unison.

John closed his eyes, forced himself to relax into the spinning in his head. His free hand slid to his waistband and flicked the button open, reached for his zipper.

In front of him, Brian was rummaging through a dresser, pulling out leather cuffs as McKay leaned against the oversized doorframe marginally defining the bedroom. From his vantage point, John could see the whole room, but his attention was fixed, _consumed_ by the long line of McKay's muscular back, the white roundness of his full ass. John had seen fucking statues less beautiful in that moment than McKay was. All he could think of was running his hands over that pale skin, tasting the heat running through that body. If he'd wanted to be drunk enough to enjoy himself, he'd certainly succeeded.

This was hot, it was gorgeous, it was fucking _awesome_. He knew he was right on the edge, though, right on the fucking edge of making a decision he wouldn't be able to take back. He could open another beer, he could watch the show, he could tell his brain to back the hell off and give him some goddamned room to _breathe_ , or he could fall over that edge and never be able to see McKay the same way again.

McKay straightened and entered the bedroom, taking his excellent ass with him. He joined Brian on the bed, wrapping the leather bracers around Brian's wrists, stretching his arms over his head and fastening them in some hidden way, placing them both in profile to John. He shoved Brian onto his back, draped Brian's legs over his shoulders then gripped his thighs and pulled until Brian was stretched flat, straining the ropes. Brian moaned loudly.

McKay looked up the length of Brian's body with a wicked grin, then swallowed Brian's erection in one abrupt movement, eyes never leaving Brian's face. Brian arched helplessly, twisting against the leather cuffs with a strangled shout. John huffed a shocked, aroused breath and plummeted over the edge.

John slid his hand into the front of his pants and groaned as his hand closed around his erection.

He was so screwed.

As usual, it felt fucking fantastic.

* * *

McKay's mouth was a tight circle of heaven surrounding his cock. Brian lunged upwards, or tried to. McKay's hands pinned his hips, his shoulders pressing into the back of Brian's thighs, denying him leverage. As he withdrew, McKay gave the tiniest scrape of teeth, sending starbursts of sensation stuttering up his skin, along with a thread of healthy fear.

Not that McKay would actually _hurt_ him.

Then again, McKay had changed...

Brian looked down, met McKay's eyes just as his mouth pulled free. The hunger was there, naked in a way Brian hadn't seen before, but it was still banked behind that cold control that Brian couldn't get enough of. That icy restraint that made him so fucking hot he felt like his heart would beat out of his chest. Made him want to break it, just to _see_...

McKay pushed up onto his knees, placed a hand against his thigh and rolled him expertly onto his stomach. There was the familiar click of the lube, the crinkle of foil, and all the while McKay pushing his buttons; teeth harsh against his ribs and the jut of his hip, a hand pushing deeply on the small of his back, driving him into the mattress and giving him just enough friction to drown him in wanting more. A moment later, knees nudged his thighs apart and fingers prodded at his ass, sliding inside and working him roughly. He hissed at the burn, swallowed hard.

He wanted more. He wanted more _now_.

"It's been a long time," he gasped out. McKay leaned over him.

"I didn't say you could talk," he ground out, the strain of holding back clear in his voice.

Brian huffed a breath, shuddered. McKay's fingers continued to glide inside him, stretching him with careful precision. Some little demon prodded him. "Just... Go slow," he muttered.

McKay stilled, withdrew his hand, ignoring the whimper of protest Brian couldn't keep in his chest. He could _feel_ those icy eyes boring into his back, tiny ripples of sensation spreading from where McKay's other hand was splayed across his lower back. Brian lifted his head, looked in the mirror. McKay looked up as he did, their eyes locking. His lips compressed, his eyes narrowed, and he moved with pure deliberation, shifting his weight against Brian to force his knees wider, to position his legs tightly against the back of Brian's thighs. "What?" His voice was a low threat. His hands moved to grip Brian's hips, fingers flexing hard against the soft skin there.

Brian licked his lips. "Go slow," he repeated, braced himself.

McKay's eyes hardened into blue ice, his fingers tightened even more. "No," he said, and thrust.

Brian rocked with the impact, his body bucking back against McKay's bulk even as his mind blanked. He was barely aware of the noises he was making, his whole world spiralled down into the burn of the too-rapid penetration and the white sparks of ecstasy as McKay drove himself over the sweet spot. His hands clenched into fists, twisting the leather cuffs around his wrists. His body pushed back against McKay's weight, his arms pulled him forward, away from the burst of pain. Brian hung suspended between the two warring impulses.

McKay's hand slid up the length of his back to the back of his neck, offering what might have passed for a caress before sliding around to the front and closing tightly over his windpipe. Not enough to cut off his breath, or even enough to hurt, but enough to feel the pressure digging in. Enough to feel the threat. Enough for McKay to use as leverage. Enough to let him pull back slowly, push in again, hard. Enough to break the tie between the pleasure and the pain.

God, enough to make him come.

When he came back to himself he was gasping, straining against the grip McKay had on his throat. McKay kneaded his fingers against Brian's hip, rested his forehead against Brian's shoulder blade, and rode out the last tremors. McKay released his throat, raked his hand over Brian's chest, twisted his nipple. Brian growled. McKay leaned forward, resting his lips against Brian's ear, whispering hoarsely. "I want to feel you move," he said. "I want to fuck you into submission, just the way you like it." Brian felt his dick stir, again. He moaned. McKay rocked a little, just enough to send multi-coloured sparks dancing behind his eyes. "Come on, come on," McKay goaded. Brian could hear the bared teeth. "Struggle."

Brian gathered his strength, threw himself into fighting the restraints, fighting the weight holding him down. His muscles bunched and he pulled hard, hearing the ropes sing into tautness. He jerked against them, the flex and release of his shoulders and arms feeling incredible. He put the rest of his weight into it, shifting to try and get his knees under him, to gain some leverage. McKay laughed in his ear, used his thighs to knock him flat again, still plastered the length of his body, still seated deep inside. He pulled back with Brian's heaves, thrust back inside with brutal snaps of his hips, sending ricochets of pleasure and pain screaming through Brian's body, stroking him higher and higher. By the time Brian exhausted his strength he was panting, dripping with sweat... and achingly hard. .

"Do you yield?" McKay had to be out of breath too, but his voice was calm and even in Brian's ear. Brian tensed, shook against his restraints like a shark on a line. The ropes twanged but held. McKay leaned harder between his shoulder blades, stretching the overworked muscles even further. The ache was bliss. He dragged his hands with agonizing slowness down Brian's heaving sides, settling fingers into well-accustomed places on Brian's hips. He was tense against Brian's back, ready for anything. "Do you yield?" He repeated, harder. A threat.

Brian swallowed hard, his mouth still open and gasping for air. McKay's hand left his hip, fastened around the back of his neck, gave him a tiny shake.

God, McKay always knew exactly what he needed.

Like a switch being thrown, every muscle in his body relaxed, became pliant. Brian breathed out in a sigh, sinking into the mattress in a loose-limbed sprawl. McKay's weight covered him like a blanket, pushing him deeper into the mattress. McKay peeled free, withdrew from his body. Brian groaned his dismay chasing him with his hips, and McKay chuckled softly before turning him onto his back.

"Feeling better?" McKay tilted his head. "Answer me."

Brian nodded slowly, licking his lips and looked up at McKay hotly. "More," he breathed, fuck, just _wanting_.

McKay's nostrils flared, his lashes sweeping down to cover the expression in his eyes. "More," he agreed, and started taking Brian apart again.

* * *

_  
_

_Brian stood in front of the mirror on the back of McKay's door, surveying the damage with a kind of complicated awe. Dark splotches in the shape of fingers decorated the planes of his ribs and pecs, more bruises in the form of bite marks stood out starkly against the pale skin of his neck, collarbone, and shoulders. He'd been shocked at the sight, not so much because of the sheer number and variety of bruises, but because he hadn't actually felt them at the time. Slowly he turned, looking over his shoulder at his back, gasped a little. A long line of bite bruises ran across the width of his shoulders, down the sweep of his spine, forming an upper case T. There were two wide sets of marks bracketing his ass; the imprint of McKay's splayed hands pressed deep into flesh. The crowning glory was a wide purple starburst set spectacularly into the join of shoulder and neck, where it looked as though McKay had considered tearing out his throat, maybe. He shrugged just a little, and the muscle under that burst of colour protested sluggishly. Now that he could see them, they started to hurt._

_A soft noise from the bathroom had him turning his head, eyes still wide. McKay was looking at him, his own eyes a little wild at the sight. "Brian." He took a deep breath, seemed to struggle for the right words. He finally settled on, "You ok?"_

_Brian grinned at him, a wide open smile he couldn't hold back. "Never better."_

_Some emotion flitted across McKay's face too quickly for Brian to pin down. "Really," he said wryly, reaching out with one finger and tracing the outline of the bites on his back. "Well," he muttered, "I don't remember you complaining."_

_Brian heard the unspoken question. "It was fantastic," he replied then ran his eyes over the hickeys on his neck and jaw line. "Though the guy who's been checking me out all semester is going to be quite put out. He'll probably hate you forever."_

_McKay's lips twitched in amusement. "Fuck him."_

_"Oh, I fully intend to." Brian stretched, hissing at the pull of abused muscles. McKay scrubbed a hand over his mouth at the sound, started to step past him to return to the bedroom. Brian turned, stepped, pushed him against the wall with his body. McKay looked at him with surprise edged with irritation. "Come on, McKay," Brian said in a low, dark voice. "I'm bigger than you. I'm stronger than you. You really think I would still be here if I didn't want to be?"_

_McKay glared up at him. This close, the stare was beyond intimidating, and Brian had to fight against his desire to back up. Instead he held his ground, leaning into McKay, challenging him openly. McKay finally smirked a little. "Sure you would," he said. "I'm Canadian. Even *maps* say my natural place is topping you."_

_Brian laughed, rested his head against McKay's shoulder. The respite from that cold stare was an outright relief, though he realised that joke or not, he'd looked away first. He had the feeling that if he looked up, McKay would still have not blinked. "Well," he said as he lifted his head. "Who am I to disagree with cartographers everywhere?" Deliberately he slid down McKay's body. McKay's hand moved automatically to his shoulder, cupping the back of his neck, and as it slid across that broad bruise the muscle lit up with a deep aching pain. Brian groaned, his whole body jerking in reaction, his dick springing to attention. McKay pulled away, but Brian stopped him, placed his hand back on the bruise and *pressed* until the ache blossomed, rolling through his nerve endings. "Don't," he said hoarsely. "I love it. I love them all." He closed his eyes. "More."_

_McKay shifted, and Brian opened his eyes to see him checking his watch. "It's eight thirty," he said. "My first class is at one." When he smiled, the slow stretch of lips made adrenaline shiver across Brian's exposed skin. "I guess it's going to be a long morning."_

* * *

John had always thought of McKay as a bit of a bumbler when it came to sex. God knew he had enough evidence for the opinion, but holy shit had he been wrong in that assessment.

Watching McKay master Brian's body had been just about the hottest thing he'd ever seen. He braced a hand between Brian's shoulder blades, pinned him with his greater breadth and weight, and fucked him into utter submission. If he hadn't seen Brian's willingness, hell, his eagerness, if he hadn't promised not to interfere...

He'd still be fucking fantasizing about it. He'd just also be interfering. Pulling McKay off the other man, maybe using those leather restraint cuffs on him instead.

And wasn't _that_ a thought he never expected to be so goddamned hot.

McKay rolled Brian expertly onto his back, murmured to him softly. Brian looked up at him, and John could see his blown pupils and eager panting from here.

John watched McKay ease back inside Brian, his hand moving in time with McKay's strokes. Every thrust in, every slow draw back felt like it was occurring around his own dick. His head was buzzing with the effects of the beer that he was still drinking as if it was water and he was parched, but every time he looked at the muscles of McKay's back bunching and releasing, every time he saw McKay's teeth set into Brian's flesh his throat would go dry and he'd reach for the bottle again.

John finished his sixth bottle and set it down on the table, his hand never slowing.

McKay lifted a little, pushed Brian's legs as wide as they would go. He pulled on Brian's hips, heaving hard until Brian's groans held just a thread of pain from the uncomfortable stretch of shoulders and arms over his head. He bowed his head, rested his forehead against Brian's breastbone, and started to thrust in earnest. Deep and racking, it made his earlier efforts seem gentle.

Brian's breath left him, and he started to gasp helplessly with every shove. McKay lifted his head enough to set his teeth at Brian's throat, to reach between them with one large hand. He gripped Brian's dick hard, jerking him in time. John's hand tightened too, and the three of them moved together for an endless moment before Brian and McKay groaned together, a drawn out sound of ecstasy that vibrated from John's ears through his skull and straight to his groin, whiting him out in a wash of bliss.

The first sensation he was aware of when his breath returned to normal was that his hand was sticky. And cold.

And wet.

John wrinkled his nose and looked around, ultimately picking a dry, presumably clean towel from the treadmill beside the couch. He wiped his hands and stomach, tucked himself back inside his pants, and wondered hazily how the hell he was ever going to look at his best friend again without remembering the best orgasm he'd had in years, without picturing him staring down at Brian blowing him, without imagining him naked and electric and so fucking hot... He took a deep breath.

McKay moved off of Brian's sated body, stroking thick fingers over soft bruises. Brian rolled into him as much as the restraints would allow, curving against the McKay's bulk. He nuzzled McKay's neck, rested his head into the curve of shoulder. McKay quickly disposed of the condom, returning to petting Brian gently.

Or, he could just torture himself remembering _that_ instead.

He was so goddamned screwed.

His cell phone rang.

McKay's head came up, Brian's thudded back against his pillow with an aggrieved mutter. John scrambled for the phone, blinking as the number swam before his beer-fuddled eyes. Heh. Maybe he was actually drunk enough to forget all this. He closed his eyes, heard again that deep groan of satisfaction that had marked McKay's orgasm. His dick twitched in his pants.

Ok. So forgetting was out.

His phone rang again, and he flipped it open with a sigh. "Yeah." McKay swung his legs over the side of the bed, head turning as he looked for his clothes. "Yeah, yeah. We're on our way to the hotel." The voice on the other end of the cell asked if he wanted Daedalus to pick them straight up. "No! Jesus, no... we have to pick up our gear. We'll call soon as we're ready." McKay watched him hang up. "We need to go."

McKay nodded.

"I'll, uh," John cast desperately for a reason to leave. One that would actually make sense, given that he really should have nothing left to be freaking out about. The thought had him on the verge of hyperventilating again. McKay took pity on him.

"How about you call the elevator for us? I'll be right there."

Yeah. Ultimately, that was what John was afraid of.

He gathered his last beer protectively to his chest and headed for the elevator.

* * *

McKay watched his bodyguard, friend, whatever, head out the door with an unreadable expression. Brian didn't care. He stretched carefully, feeling the burn through muscles unused to this particular flavour of exercise. He smiled sleepily as McKay tugged against the restraints, rolled over on his stomach and buried his face in his pillow. He heard the heavy rustle of denim as McKay gathered his clothes.

"You're not as cold as you used to be," he muttered lazily.

McKay snorted. "You're not as needy as _you_ used to be."

Brian shrugged. "It's still fucking fantastic." McKay hummed his agreement.

"You know it's time for you to open that New York office. Past time, actually. You should have done it three years ago, the _first_ time I told you to.“ McKay’s voice had Brian cracking open one eye curiously. He pulled up his pants, zipped and buttoned them briskly then reached for his shirt. "I hear you have someone to stay with until you find a place locally."

"Why do you think I'm going to listen to you now?" Brian hid his smile against the pillow.

"Because you aren't that stupid. If you were, I never would have held you after class. Plus, I'm an investor. You have to listen to me. It's in the contract."

McKay pulled his shirt on over his head. On the bedside table, Brian's cell began to vibrate and chime the soft tone that meant, _Justin_. Ah, impeccable sense of timing as always. Brian wriggled deeper into his comforter. "Can you get that for me?" He rattled his restraints meaningfully. McKay shot him an amused look but flipped open the phone willingly enough.

"McKay," he barked by way of greeting. Brian laughed. "Yeah, he's here. Tied up though. Can I, uh, can I take a message?" There was a long pause. "Sure." He rubbed a hand along his jaw as he listened intently. "No. You'll have to take a car from the airport." Another beat. "Yeah. Whatever. Bye."

McKay tossed the cell onto the bed beside at him, looked down at him with a grin. "Michael called him, wants him to save you from my evil clutches. He'll be here in the morning." He raked his eyes down Brian's body, over the tiny patterns of fingertip bruises and other marks. "You figure he'll be ok with this?"

Brian looked down his body, at the dark march of fingerprints across pale skin. "Not a chance," he said with a wicked smile. "He's going to hate you forever."

McKay sighed. "Oh well," he muttered. "What's one more?" He reached for the leather bracers circling Brian's wrists. Brian pulled away.

"Leave them. They feel good."

McKay frowned.

"It's okay. Leave them. He'll be here in the morning." Brian blinked slowly, luxuriating in the lassitude deadening every muscle he had. "It'll be a welcome back present. Something you give the guy who's had everything." He snickered helplessly.

The frown was joined by pursed lips and narrowed eyes as McKay examined him closely. "You're still high." He ran his eyes over the restraints holding Brian's arms to the head of the bed. "You sure you want me to leave you like this?"

Brian tugged half-heartedly. McKay had loosened the ropes enough that he could move, could at least unhook the rope from the bed if necessary. It was an effort to even roll over, his body heavy with satiation and his mind still buzzing in that soft place where nothing mattered. He might regret it in the morning, but for now he couldn't rouse himself enough to care. "M'Fine. I trust him." He let his eyes drift closed. "What about you? You figure he'll be okay with this?"

McKay sat down beside him, jean-clad thigh a warm abrasion against his naked hip. Brian hummed softly, curled into the touch while watching him through heavy lids. McKay smiled at him, ran a hand gently down the length of his body. Brian felt the touch in every nerve ending, felt his body respond lazily to the heat and pleasure. He gave a low rumble in the back of his throat, like a purr. McKay's smile widened. It was warm, like basking in the sun. His hand slid back up to curl around the back of Brian's neck, raking into the hair. "I think I definitely upset the applecart. And I think he'll hate you forever too." His fingers kneaded gently at the base of Brian's skull. He leaned in until his mouth was right against Brian's ear, until his breath wafted warm against the sensitive flesh there. "I'm not sorry," he said, low and velvety dark. Brian shuddered with reaction to that rumbling whisper, his body twitching as it tried to respond with renewed interest. McKay sat up, stroked him again. "You're beautiful, Brian. Much more than just 'fine'."

Brian closed his eyes, tilted his head for more pressure. "You're not coming back this time, are you?" It wasn't really a question.

"No." McKay replied gently, affectionately even. "I don't think I am."

"Hell of a send off, McKay." Brian burrowed deeper into his pillow, arching against the hand that was once again petting him. "Thanks for dropping by. Come back any time."

McKay laughed, leaned over and pressed his chest against the line of Brian's back. He nuzzled his nose behind his ear, kissed his neck softly. "Goodbye, Brian." One last caress and McKay stood. He turned his back, straightened his shoulders, and strode purposefully for the door, not looking back.

The door clanged shut behind him.

* * *

_  
_

_"I can't believe you're leaving." Brian hated the whine he heard in his voice._

_"It's the end of the semester. Of course I'm leaving." McKay flicked him a glance out of eyes no warmer now than they'd been that first day. "I told you I would." He continued packing with rapid, economical movements._

_Brian flopped onto his back on the hard bed, covering his eyes with his arm. "I know! But now it's here, and I ..." He subsided. McKay waited with what passed with him for patience. "But who I will be now? Once you're gone?" Brian asked plaintively, sitting up reluctantly once it became clear McKay was not going to join him._

_McKay stared at him, astonished, then burst out laughing. Brian sighed, but he felt his lips curve into a smile of his own. McKay was infectious in all his moods, damn him. The other man stepped into his space, grabbed his shoulders and shook him. "Ok, ok. I want you to listen to me." Brian waited. "Are you listening?"_

_Brian rolled his eyes. "Fuck! Yes, I'm listening!"_

_McKay released him. "You're Brian Kinney," he said firmly. "Brian *fucking* Kinney, best fuck in Pittsburgh. Anyone ... *anyone* is lucky to have you." He grinned fiercely, a flash of white teeth in his arrogant face. For the first time Brian could remember, his eyes were warm. "Maybe, even me."_

_Brian nodded, swallowing hard. "That's right," he said hoarsely. "That's exactly who I am."_

 

-30-


End file.
